


something has to die

by Joy_pastel_Sol



Category: GOT7
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Bambam was married to an older man and Jaebeom is married to another, Explicit Sexual Content, Funeral, M/M, Mention of blood, Minor Character Death, Strangers to Lovers, Switch Im Jaebum | JB, Switch Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam, Very Mild Gore, but not between Bambam and Jaebeom, description of murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joy_pastel_Sol/pseuds/Joy_pastel_Sol
Summary: Jaebeom stares a little unabashedly, something pulling him in, he even forgets his husband by his side, who never really looks at him anyway.Amidst the sincerely sorry men and women and the ones who aren’t so much, Bambam peers at him under his expensive sunglasses, for long enough for Jaebeom to feel like it means something.or : Bambam kills his husband and at the funeral, he meets Jaebeom, who’s married to someone he didn’t choose, like Bambam was. And between the heart and the mind, we know which one wins most of the time, even if that means doing something irreparable.
Relationships: Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Im Jaebum | JB
Comments: 18
Kudos: 21





	something has to die

**Author's Note:**

> please read the tags carefully !

He watches as his husband’s body hits the ground, as the dull cracking of the skull breaking open is heard in the night. And after a floating moment, there’s blood spreading out on the floor, a red, glossy puddle forming under his lifeless head.

It’s not as satisfying as he thought. It’s not unsatisfying either, no. It’s just a little underwhelming, like it’s not really happening, and it’s over so quickly, it seems like it has always been this way.

Regardless. He’s dead, now.

There’s a light drizzle trickling from grey clouds, the day of Park Kangmin’s funeral, when they’re all at the cemetery.

Jaebeom never met him, but his husband Yeonseok did, a few times. All Jaebeom knows is that this man was a very wealthy man, and his funeral lives up to expectations, from the coffin made of mahogany to the eulogistic but boring speech from the priest, without mentioning the ceremony in great pomp.

What he didn’t know was who Park Kangmin was married to. He didn’t know it was with someone named Bambam, someone young, seemingly younger than Jaebeom, with criminally plump lips. He’s standing near the grave with big sunglasses on, answering with a tight smile to people expressing their condolences and squeezing some hands.

Jaebeom stares a little unabashedly, something pulling him in, he even forgets his husband by his side, who never really looks at him anyway.

Amidst the sincerely sorry men and women and the ones who aren’t so much, Bambam peers at him under his expensive sunglasses, for long enough for Jaebeom to feel like it means something.

Finding where Bambam resides hasn’t been difficult at all, Yeonseok not wondering why he would want to know where Park Kangmin was living when he was still alive. He even went as far as telling Jaebeom that the young widower inherited the mansion.

He presses nervously on the intercom’s button beside the wrought-iron gate, his heart pounding in his ears. After what seemed like an endless amount of time, but that probably lasted ten seconds at most, a cracking voice speaks through.

“Hello ? Who is it ?” the voice asks, despite the fact that there must be some kind of surveillance camera monitoring the gate.

Jaebeom clears his throat. “I’m… the guy at the funeral ? Lee Yeonseok’s husband ?”

There’s a pause, the birds chirping sounding louder all of a sudden. He’s starting to feel like he made himself believe in something that never existed in the first place.

The click of the gate unlocking startles him. A little taken aback, he stares as it opens before him. He takes a deep breath, but doesn’t hesitate much when he begins to walk towards the mansion.

When he reaches the mansion, Bambam is waiting for him under the porch, dressed in a dark blue silk robe with some casual, slightly loose black shirt and pants underneath. His face is bare, which makes him look a bit younger, less sophisticated than at the funeral, but there’s some smudged eyeliner left at the corners of his eyes.

With Bambam right in front of him, a tangle of emotions behind his eyes, Jaebeom doesn’t know what to say. Because they don’t know each other at all.

“I’m sorry for your husband.” is the first thing that seems appropriate to say, and mandatory somehow.

But Bambam shakes his head slowly. “It’s… what it is.” he sighs. Jaebeom doesn’t know if it’s out of inexpressible sorrow or genuine disinterest, or something else.

The inside of the mansion is beautiful. Too vast and empty, Bambam being the only living thing here, but well-decorated and luxurious nonetheless.

“I don’t know your name.” Bambam notes while he’s making tea.

“Oh, you’re right. I’m Jaebeom.”

“Well, I’m Bambam.” He starts to pour the hot liquid in the cups. “But you already know, I guess.”

“I do.” Jaebeom confirms, watching as Bambam brings the cups of tea and puts them on the coffee table in front of the leather couch Jaebeom is sat on, before he sits down himself. There’s steam coming from the cups, its flowing movements hypnotising.

It’s silent for a little while, the tea still too hot to be drunk. Bambam stares at his nails.

“I saw you at the funeral.” he eventually says, but very softly, like it’s a fragile thing, his eyes still focused on his fingers.

“Yeah ?”Jaebeom breathes out.

Bambam raises his head.

“Yeah.” he whispers.

No more words are exchanged then, only their eyes speaking to each other, with the risk of misunderstanding, until Bambam states, his gaze wavering a little : “I have a nice bedroom.”

It seems like there was no misunderstanding.

“What did he die from ?” Jaebeom inquires, standing on the balcony of Bambam’s bedroom, while he admires the early evening sky, pink and purple hues overlaying the usual grey or blue. He’ll have to go back to his husband soon, before it makes him want to ask questions. “I mean, if that’s okay to ask.” he adds as he turns his head to take a look at Bambam, who’s still on the bed and half-naked.

It seems like there are some emotions that fall from his face at this moment, but the only thing left is a neutral expression.

“He fell from here.” Bambam explains eventually, gesturing towards where Jaebeom is standing. “He was drunk.”

There’s still a faint red stain on the floor under the balcony, Jaebeom notices when he glances down.

It’s lazy kisses and wandering hands in a sunny late morning, their breaths mingling and heartbeats synchronising. Jaebeom came after his husband had gone to work, and there’s no better way to spend some time with the one he loved.

They’re already naked and Bambam’s skin is always so soft, it makes Jaebeom’s mind unravel. Bambam lets his hands travel down the wide expanse of Jaebeom’s back, until they reach the swell of his butt and grab the plushness here. Jaebeom sighs softly and draws impossibly closer to Bambam, their legs intertwined. With their bodies pressed flush together, their hardening cocks glide slightly against one another, and just this small friction makes Bambam repress a whine bubbling up his throat.

He slips a finger in between Jaebeom’s butt cheeks, circling the pad of his forefinger against the sensitive, inviting hole. Jaebeom has shaved, so it’s all smooth skin and the pink he can imagine.

It flutters under his finger and Jaebeom nips painlessly where his shoulder meets his neck, his hips rutting a little against Bambam. His finger is dry when he pushes it past the rim but that doesn’t seem to displease Jaebeom, who moans airily in the crook of Bambam’s neck.

He can feel Jaebeom’s cock, swelled up to full hardness by now, leaking precum against his own and his arousal flares up like a lit match falling in a puddle of petrol, unhinged and unapologetic.

Bambam starts to thrust his finger in and out, quite shallowly because the angle isn’t ideal, but witnessing the rosy colour blooming on Jaebeom’s cheeks more than makes up for it.

Jaebeom bites harder on Bambam’s neck, it’s barely painful but he lets out a warning groan nonetheless, the hand which isn’t busy inside Jaebeom landing swiftly on one butt cheek. Jaebeom huffs.

“Give me more.” he almost hiss but not quite, his tone still soft around the edges.

“I will.” Bambam assures as he slips a second finger halfway inside only to pull both out right after, earning a disappointed noise from Jaebeom. “But we need lube, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’ll never hurt me.” Jaebeom states, looking right into his eyes, and Bambam feels some sort of confusing emotion creeping up his neck at what sounds like a confession or something.

He leaves a peck on Jaebeom’s lips to conceal it. “Don’t be cheesy.”

“Well, bring the lube so you can fuck me dumb then.”

Bambam rolls his eyes at him, but he still sits up and crawls to the other side of the bed to get the lube.

The gentle sound of raindrops falling against the window of Bambam’s living room puts Jaebeom’s mind at ease, while he feels Bambam’s gaze on him, his breath grazing his neck like a summer breeze.

“Would you believe me if I told you that my husband’s death was my fault ?” Bambam asks a bit abruptly. He put on an apricot blush high on his cheeks.

Jaebeom just stares at him while Bambam stares back, his eyes not faltering.

“What do you mean, your fault ?”

“Like, if I told you that I pushed him. Deliberately.”

Jaebeom’s lips part slightly, a look of confusion on his face. Bambam’s gaze is still on him and it’s like he’s almost desperately searching for something in the dark of his irises. 

“You did ?” Jaebeom asks in a murmur. 

Bambam lets several beats pass before answering.

“Yes.” he responds, the word barely heard as his throat tightens.

Jaebeom frowns. “Why ?”

Bambam shifts a little on the couch. He sighs. “We— he didn’t like me. I didn’t like him, either.” He looks down at where he’s scraping the skin around his thumb nail. “I don’t know, I’ve thought about it once and then the idea just kept on coming back.” he explains quietly. “He made me feel so small, like I was stupid. It was just a thought, I didn’t think I would actually do it but…” He lets the sentence unfinished and runs a hand through his hair hastily, and even now the movement distracts Jaebeom for a second.

Bambam looks at him like he’s afraid he’s going to vanish right and there, his lower lip trembling imperceptibly.

Jaebeom doesn’t run away. 

He does have to come back to his husband’s house, though.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone.” he promises before he leaves. His hair is still a bit dishevelled. Bambam hopes his husband won’t notice.

It’s really something small at first, like Bambam told him. He simply begins to imagine what it would be like, if his husband weren’t here anymore, with his empty heart and cold hands. If he didn’t have to pretend.

It feels like it would be nice, because he would be able to love Bambam and Bambam would be able to love him, unrestrained, instead of nourishing a clandestine love affair that is bound to end, one day. The more the certainty that the outcome won’t be joyful seeps into his thoughts, the more it suffocates him.

Unless.

On his fours, Bambam whines as Jaebeom sinks into him, his fingers digging in his hips. Once he’s completely sheathed inside, he stays still for a few seconds, admiring the body underneath him at the same time.

“I’m not made of sugar, you can move.” Bambam grits through his teeth.

Jaebeom laughs through his nose, running a hand up along his spine. “Alright, alright.”

He snaps his hips forward, making Bambam clutch the sheets, his back muscles flexing beautifully in the daylight.

Jaebeom begins to pick up a steady pace, watching occasionally as his cock disappears into the tight heat, watching Bambam opening up for him, his head full of the lovely whines and moans he lets out. But then Bambam just clenches around him, hard, and the way his orgasm builds up so quickly in his stomach and crashes over him like a tidal wave takes him completely by surprise. He spills his cum inside with an aborted shout, the spike of pleasure easily overpowering his puzzlement.

He’s panting as he comes down from his high, the relief mixing with the embarrassment of coming like a teenager, not even five minutes after they started.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” he sighs, his softening cock slipping out and allowing some cum to leak out from Bambam.

Bambam turns around, ignoring the cum sliding down his taint, and offers a compassionate smile. “It’s okay.” he reassures, reaching up to cradle Jaebeom’s jaw. “Can I come on your face ?”

Jaebeom’s mind stops working for a moment, Bambam all awaiting eyes and glistening skin, before he nods wordlessly.

Bambam sits up, gesturing for Jaebeom to lie down as he kneels over his chest, his knees on each side of his ribs, grazing his armpits.

“It’s okay like this ?”

“Yes.” Jaebeom breathes before looking up and the sight of Bambam above him, his hard cock right _here_ , makes his spine tingle in arousal and his mouth salivate.

Bambam’s gaze doesn’t leave his face, his eyes, his lips, as he wraps his fingers around his swollen length and starts stroking his cock a little erratically. Apart from harsh exhales and quiet groans, he’s silent and Jaebeom’s heart is drumming in anticipation, watching as the tip of Bambam’s cock glistens more with each slide of his hand.

Bambam lets out a punched out noise before he comes, the cum landing mostly on Jaebeom’s cheeks and lips in white spurts as his eyes flutter shut.

Jaebeom cracks his eyes open, his face wet and dirty, and Bambam stares at him like he would admire an astounding piece of art or like he’s some sort of god.

Bambam slowly scoops up some of the cum on Jaebeom’s cheekbone with his thumb, and Jaebeom lets his mouth fall open, inviting, wet and pink as Bambam’s sperm-coated thumb presses on his tongue.

“Fuck.” Bambam curses under his breath. “That’s so hot.”

Jaebeom grins around the thumb in his mouth.

Even in the darkness of their bedroom, he can see the shape of his husband’s body under the covers. He’s breathing steadily, without any rush. Sound asleep. He stares at the form beneath the covers, something dark spreading within him.

Jaebeom doesn’t let his mind take the lead when he sits up slowly and picks up his own pillow, hovering it above his husband’s head, before he smashes it against his face. There’s a small delay before he jerks awake and realises what’s happening, but even as he starts thrashing around with his whole body and rakes his nails on Jaebeom’s wrists and forearms, Jaebeom keeps the pillow pressed against his face with all his strength. His heart is racing and he doesn’t hear anything other than his own raging breaths while the body underneath him keeps on floundering and floundering until finally, he begins to tire, the hits and kicks growing weaker. At some point, he doesn’t know how long, it simply ceases.

He stays like this, squashing the pillow against the other’s face, for longer than necessary, long after the body went limp and unresponsive.

When he dares to remove the pillow, he can’t help but look for any rise and fall of his chest. There’s nothing. It’s boneless. The realisation he’s dead hits him.

Jaebeom rushes out of bed.

He presses on the intercom’s button frantically, his panting a deafening noise in the silent night.

The gate finally opens and he runs towards the mansion. Like the first time, Bambam is already under the porch, a velvety white robe covering him but Jaebeom knows he’s only wearing boxer-briefs underneath because that’s what he likes to wear to sleep.

“Bambam, I did it, oh my god, Bambam, I— ” he rambles as soon as he’s at his level, as Bambam takes his shaky hands in his own.

“Calm down, what did you do ?” But Jaebeom just stares at him, still breathing erratically. “Jaebeom, what did you do ?” he repeats a bit urgently.

“I— he’s dead.” he chokes out.

There’s clear shock on Bambam’s face, his gaze flickering from the right to the left and his eyebrows furrowed, but he doesn’t let go of Jaebeom’s hands. They’re still trembling.

“How ?” he ends up asking, his tone surprisingly even.

Jaebeom shuts his eyes. “The pillow— ” his voice gets caught in his throat at the last syllable.

It seems enough for Bambam to understand.

“Let’s run away.” he blurts out.

“What ?” Jaebeom opens his eyes wide, incredulous.

“I have a car, we take the car and we just fucking run away.” He tightens his grip on Jaebeom’s hands. “We can’t stay here anyway.”

Jaebeom lets out a painful sigh, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

“I trust you.” he manages to tell, nearly sobbing, his voice hoarse. “I trust you.”

Bambam presses his lips against him without any warning, desperately, sincerely, and Jaebeom automatically responds to the kiss, his thoughts going static under Bambam’s mouth. Their hands clasp each other’s so tightly it hurts, but it doesn’t matter.

If they stay together like this, there’s nothing that can truly go wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> title from _fresh laundry_ by allie x.
> 
> I hope this was a good read for you, if anything. I felt doubtful about it so many times, but I managed to write it eventually. thank you so much for reading, and of course if you feel like it you can leave a little comment !  
> much love.
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/joypastelsol) and I also have a [curious cat](https://curiouscat.qa/joypastelsol) if you ever want to ask something.


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